The Dark Hour
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: When a new child arrives at Wammy's House, with a strange friend. Children begin dying left and right and at the center of it is a strange little girl. Mello and Matt are the only children who believe in her innocence, can they bring light to a dark hour?
1. Dealings with the Devil

**The Dark Hour**

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note or any of its respective characters. I am not making any profit whatsoever from this story and it is purely for entertainment purposes only. However I do own the Levandi family. Please ask for my written permission before using them in any way shape or form_

"_Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows." - John Betjeman _

**Chapter One – **Dealings with the Devil

Normally, he didn't do this kind of thing. Oh no, not at all.

But, since when had anything in his life ever been the slightest semblance of normal?

After all, he was the greatest detective the world had ever known. He was L, Ryuzaki, Coil. The man who had solved over 3,500 cases all alone and had saved countless lives, but he supposed that a little time for himself wasn't completely out of the question.

The house where he himself had grown up was Whammy's Home for Gifted Orphans. Or Whammy's House for short.

Whammy had always been a sort of a collector, amused by those whose minds worked differently than his own and now it was no different.

As much as he himself hated to admit it, Ryuzaki needed a successor, someone who could follow in his footsteps and take his place, should finally a criminal get the better of him.

He supposed Whammy had the right idea, as he had been gathering genius, orphaned and neglected children all across the world to take his place.

The idea never set exactly right with Ryuzaki, but he hated to admit he felt a bit of attachment to all those little kids who aspired to be him, and who really wouldn't?

But, recently, Whammy had received word of another child, a girl, and that alone piqued his interest. Whammy's house had no female members as of yet.

It was a bit of a reach, Whammy had said, but the girl was said to be a brilliant painter and although not orphaned she was a bit, _neglected_ to say the least.

Normally, Whammy would have gone to save the child, but for the first time in his life Ryuzaki had no cases following him around. He had been quite exhausted from his ordeal with Beyond Birthday and to tell the truth was quite curious to see what it would feel like to actively change someone's life in a way that wasn't with distorted voices and computer screens.

Ryuzaki sighed and bundled himself even tighter in his scarf and coat. Estonia was even colder than he expected, Whammy had said the girl had lived here most of her life and as a result did not speak much English.

Of course, Ryuzaki had educated himself on the basics of Estonian language and hopefully would at least be able to converse pleasantly enough with the child.

He continued walking, gazing at the elegant faces of men and woman, some dressed in more European clothing, and others in what he assumed was traditional Estonian dress.

The streets were a strange mix of modern and traditional architecture and Ryuzaki paused for a moment to listen to the sounds of children playing in the snow and vendors selling their goods in the street.

After fifteen more minutes of walking he stopped in front of a small monastery. The building was ominous and made of stone, the only light coming from a few stained glass windows. Their light spilled onto the snow like blood.

The girl was said to reside inside of here along with her parents not out of devotion to God or for her almost ethereal paintings but because she heard voices. That had been precisely why Whammy had said it was a bit of a reach, she might be a little too much for them to handle, but Ryuzaki was never one to back down from any kind of challenge.

He strode up to the door, the snow crunching under his boots like glass. He knocked once on the big wooden door and waited.

After a few moments the door opened, and a small woman stepped out. She appeared mousy, her thin brown hair tied back into a small bun, which made her already angular face seem very sharp. She was very pretty, although he noticed she walked with a slight hunch. He wondered if perhaps the weight of such a religious structure was weighing down on her. She stared at Ryuzaki for a moment through silvery gray eyes, seeming mistrustful of him, then spoke in thick broken English.

"You come for girl?"

She did not seem entirely surprised and he assumed that the woman had received Whammy's letter.

Ryuzaki nodded, "Yes, may I see her?"

The woman nodded, "She possessed you know. Demons inside. She hear things not there."

Ryuzaki blinked now, "Possessed?"

The woman nodded furiously as she let him inside. "Yes. Possessed by devil. But Father save her."

The monastery was icy cold and Ryuzaki could see his breath in front of him like fog, he wondered vaguely how a child could survive in such conditions.

Almost immediately afterwards a terrible scream was heard from a room in the back. His police training kicking in Ryuzaki bounded towards the noise, fully prepared to confront some sort of danger, or at the very least a killer snowman.

When he reached the room, a little girl no older than nine was being held under a fountain pool of what Ryuzaki assumed was holy water while a priest and several monks stood over her reciting bible verses and making the sign of the cross over and over.

Normally, he had a healthy respect for religion for it was a human thing to believe in something higher than one's own self, to trust in a higher power. But, it wasn't an answer to someone suffering a mental illness.

The tiny girl sputtered and coughed, her dark brown hair plastered against her face wetly as she struggled against the monks and priest.

"Stop!" Ryuzaki said commandingly, practically leaping across the room and shoving the men away from the small girl. Damn his affection for small children.

He pulled the little child out of the water gently, murmuring shushing noises and struggling to stop the hiccuping sobs that erupted from her tiny mouth.

He brushed her dark brown hair back from her face and looked at her carefully. She was pretty, not in a dazzling way, but in a way that surely got one's attention. She looked up at him through silvery gray eyes and he held her against him, surprised when she clung to him.

"What on earth are you doing to her?" he demanded, staring angrily at the group of Estonians

The woman who had let him in shrugged and pulled a threadbare shawl about her shoulders, "She possessed. My Layla she hear voices. God set her free."

"This is your daughter?" Ryuzaki said softly, pulling the girl even tighter against him, "This is torture."

The tiny girl known as Layla clung to him, whimpering softly and for a moment he stroked her damp hair.

"She not well. She bring demon into house. Ever since she speak, bad things. Father died." Layla's mother murmured crossing herself and looking fearfully at the little girl.

He got angry then, quite familiar of cases where bad things had happened in a family and of course everyone looked for a scapegoat. Unfortunately, this poor little girl happened to be that scapegoat.

"Then I'll take her with me." Ryuzaki murmured, "Give me her things."

Layla's mother looked at him wearily, then let out a tiny sigh. "How much?"

Ryuzaki looked disgusted, "You actually want me to pay you? I suppose that would be in order. I can give you the equivalent of at least a thousand american dollars.

The woman and monks looked surprised, "American dollars?"

He nodded, and pulled out a wadded up amount of american dollars. "Take it."

"No mama!" a voice shouted suddenly.

A young boy, about fourteen years of age ran forth, from behind the monks and tugged at Ryuzaki's pants leg. "Don't let him take my sister!" He yelled in Estonian. "I...I know, she's sick, but please don't take her away from me."

Ryuzaki sucked in his cheeks, slightly relieved, at least someone cared for this ill little girl.

He looked sympathetically at the small boy, "Listen to me. I promise. I'll take good care of your little sister, she's sick. She has schizophrenia I believe. She needs help, I live at an institution and we'll take good care of her there."

"Mika," Layla said softly, for her tears had finally dried up enough for her to form a coherent sentence. "I want to go..I hate it here.

"But Layla," he murmured...then faltered, the little boy looked up at Ryuzaki, then back at his little sister, "You'll take care of her? Promise me you'll bring her back one day?"

He smiled, "Of course, I'll make her write to you."

Layla's mother returned with a small satchel with a few clothes, "This all she has. Make her better."

"I'll try." he said nodding.

_Three weeks later_

Ryuzaki soon discovered that Layla scarcely spoke at all, she was a well mannered child. Quiet, and a little shy, they both managed to have small conversations in Estonian. They spent most of the time in a hotel in Estonia, as he didn't want to rip her away from her homeland so suddenly.

She seemed intellegent enough, solving many of his little puzzles he made for her quietly and without complaint. However, he had not yet heard her talking to any kind of voices.

One morning, he entered their hotel room to find her painting a depiction of a young woman who lay kneeling before a blond man dressed in black. The painting was incredibly lifelike that Ryuzaki felt that he could almost fall into the work itself.

"That's beautiful Layla." he told her kindly, "You have quite the gift."

She murmured a quiet, "Thank you." before continuing her work.

This morning however, they were on the plane that was heading to Whammy's house and he paused to watch her play contentedly with the sugar packets that had come with her tea. She seemed quite undisturbed by the fact that she was leaving her homeland and Ryuzaki suspected she was even a little glad.

"Layla," he said softly in Estonian, "Tell me about the voices you hear, please?"

She frowned and began drawing a face in the piles of sugar, "I don't hear voices. Sidoh is real."

Ryuzaki sighed and stared at the cheesecake that had just been placed in front of him, by his own private stewardess and he dangled the fork over the pie for a moment, then took a large bite.

"Tell me about Sidoh." he said carefully.

She continued drawing in the sugar contentedly, "Sidoh is my friend, he loves me. Shares secrets with me. He keeps me safe."

"What does Sidoh share with you?"

She shrugged, "Stories,"

Ryuzaki took another bite of his cheesecake and spoke as he chewed thoughtfully, "Does Sidoh ever tell you to hurt people Layla?" Most people who heard such voices sooner or later heard them tell their victims to hurt people.

Suddenly, Layla looked up seeming shocked and a little angry, "Sidoh never hurts people. It's too scary."

"I see." Ryuzaki said thoughtfully.

He was beginning to suspect that this girl didn't have schizophrenia at all, it merely seemed like she had an imaginary friend, however that could change in a heartbeat. For now, it couldn't hurt to play along with her delusions for the most part.

"Is he here?" Ryuzaki asked.

Layla nodded happily and pointed right next to him. "He's staring at you Mr. L."

Ryuzaki turned to face the air beside him and pretended to tip his nonexistent hat, "Hello Mr. Sidoh, what a lovely plane ride this is. I hope you're enjoying yourself with Layla today."

He turned to Layla and winked at her, beaming at the warm giggle she gave him. "Sidoh likes you Mr. L."

Suddenly Ryuzaki felt the plane shake and land, he glanced out the window to see Whammy's a few yards away.

Gently, he took Layla's hand in his, "Come on Layla, meet the rest of your new family."


	2. Reasons

**Chapter Two **– Reasons

As soon as they stepped out of the plane a swarm of students came around them, all of them smiling at Ryuzaki, reaching out to show him things, and give him hugs. Ryuzaki took a moment out to say something kind to each of them english, knowing how important it was that each child felt good about themselves, if only for a moment. He promised silently to explain it all to Layla later in her native language.

"Why Matt, you're getting even better at your video games then last time I saw you!" he said gently to a boy dressed in a black and white sweater, orange goggles perched neatly on his flaming red hair.

He eagerly grinned and showed Matt his Gameboy while the Mario theme played on in the background. Ryuzaki ruffled the child's hair, "I'd say you're about one hundred percent likely to beat that game."

Matt beamed up at him, and ran off towards the building, surely to tell the other students what he had said.

Layla looked up at Ryuzaki slightly confused, and spoke softly in Estonian, "Why did you tell that boy he was one hundred percent likely to beat that game? Nothing is certain."

Ryuzaki sighed, "That's a very astute observation Layla. However, I find that it is probable to stretch the truth every once in a while. Today, Matt's day will be slightly more cheerful than it would have been without my comment."

She seemed sated with this answer now and fell silent, Ryuzaki placed his thin hands on her shoulders and they progressed across the lawn.

Slowly, the two of them reached the building and went inside. The institution was well furnished, and very homely. Several children were inside, reading, solving puzzles or even playing games with one another.

"Come up to my Office," he said gently, "I'd like you to meet two of the boys here."

Ryuzaki lead her up a winding staircase, and paused at the second floor, "Here are the bedrooms." he said quietly, "After you meet the two boys here, I'd like you to pick an empty room out of your own."

For the first time since he had met her Layla seemed honestly excited, "My own room?" she squealed, "All my own? I've always wanted a room of my own. I had to share a room with my brother back when I lived in Estonia."

Ryuzaki smiled and motioned for her to go up to the third floor while he followed her close behind, "Well, now you'll have your own things. Whammy will provide you with anything you need. Art supplies, clothes, food, whatever you want."

He strode down the hallway, down to a door at the far end of the room.

Inside, two boys sat waiting in chairs, as soon as Ryuzaki opened the door, the blond boy bounded forward, "L!" he yelled in English, "We missed you. I missed you! I beat Near at a puzzle! And I made an A on my last test, are you proud of me L?"

Ryuzaki had always had a soft spot for the blond child known as Mello. He was quite possibly the most affectionate to him of all the children at Whammy's and easily the most emotional. Ryuzaki almost envied the boy's emotional range.

He smiled, and ruffled the little boy's blond hair, "Of course Mello. I'm always proud of you...and Near."

He turned his attention on a small white haired boy, who sat in one of the room's corners putting together a white puzzle as fast as he could. Near was quite possibly the smartest child Ryuzaki had ever met, and also the only child that he felt he completely understood. He was the exact opposite of Mello, completely unemotional in every way. Preferring to think of everything logically and objectively as a puzzle or a game. It was no surprise that Mello had nothing but contempt for Near. However one-sided it might have been.

"Hello Near," Ryuzaki said calmly.

"Hello L." the boy said numbly focusing on his puzzle. "Please, tell us, who is the girl you've brought with you?"

Ryuzaki blinked, slightly surprised and glanced down at Layla who stood cowering behind his pant leg. He suspected that she had not had much association with other children and he could understand how Mello and Near could be a little intimidating.

Mello looked to her, then scowled. "Oh, another successor?"

Ryuzaki shook his head, Mello had been known to push his weight around on others, something he suspected was a bit of an inferiority complex to to Near's own genius. "Oh, no...this is Layla, we'll call her Linda, she's come to stay with us."

"Name not Linda!" she murmured in broken english.

"It's what we'll call you here." Ryuzaki murmured

"What is she, retarded?" Mello said, scowling meanly at her.

Layla merely blinked at him confused, her english was not enough to understand what Mello was saying, only that it was cruel.

At this Ryuzaki looked disappointed, "Now Mello, that was rude, she cannot speak english very well. She's from Estonia.." Suddenly an idea popped in his head, for he thought that Mello might benefit well from tutoring someone who was not as intelligent as himself.

"Mello," Ryuzaki said seriously, "I'd like you to teach her English."

Mello took a long look at Layla and sighed, "Fine. Come on."

He exited the room quickly and Layla glanced uncertainly at Ryuzaki.

"Go on," he said gently, "Mello is going to be your teacher from now on."

Cautiously she followed Mello obediently down the hallway into a room that was revealed to be a library.

"We'll start you off with some basic english I suppose," Mello murmured to himself.

Layla however was not listening, instead she couldn't help but take notice of a little boy who sat in a far corner quietly in front of a row of differently sized bells. His long messy red hair fell into his brown eyes as he picked up the smallest bell and rang it consecutively three times.

"Aren't you listening?" Mello snapped suddenly.

Layla jumped and glanced sheepishly up at Mello, "I is. Sorry sorry."

Mello looked over at the boy and then back at Layla, "That's Zion. Don't mind him. And anyway's you're supposed to say 'I am.' Not I is."

She blinked, then tried to copy his words, "I...I am."

Mello seemed slightly pleased by this and he pulled out a bar of chocolate from his pocket. He ripped the foil off hastily, and bit off a tiny portion of the candy with a loud snap while Layla stared curiously at it.

"It's chocolate." he said, waving it in front of her face, "Cho-co-late." he enunciated, "Say it

now."

"Chu-ca-lat." Layla said, trying to keep her eyes off Mello's piercing blue ones.

"No!" Mello said angrily, "That's wrong!"

The harshness in his voice made her jump, and almost instantly tears surfaced up in her grey eyes.

"H-hey!" Mello said quickly glancing between her and Zion who had paused hi activities for a moment to watch them both. "Don't cry, here." He broke off a small corner of the chocolate and handed it to her.

She blinked suddenly and smelled the sweet richness of the candy for a moment before popping it in her mouth.

"Careful careful!" Zion said suddenly, staring up at Mello. "Monsters hide behind her eyes."

At those words Mello glared, "Oh shut it Zion, keep your thoughts to yourself. Go play with Near and his puzzles if you want to be all cryptic.

Zion smiled dreamily as he gathered up his bells and headed out the door, "Beware of the names of others Mello. Beware of the pen in her grasp."

Mello scowled, "Zion is a bit of a fruitcake. He went all bloody loopy after Aaron died a few months ago."

At those words Layla ceased licking her the chocolate that had melted on her fingers, "What 'appen?"

"Happened," Mello corrected, "Aaron was the first one of us kids that Whammy had found. Do you know why you're really here?"

Layla shook her head.

"You're here because L thought you might one day have potential to succeed him should he die. L is an investigator. He solves crimes. He's solved over a hundred cases. We're all trying to become him next. Well, Aaron was the first one of us to try. We all called him A. I suppose the pressure got to be too much for him to bare and he committed suicide. Zion found him in his room, she's never really been the same."

At those words Mello crossed himself briefly and kissed the small red rosary on his neck.

"Poor A, condemned to a life in purgatory." he murmured.

Layla stiffened slightly at the show of religion from Mello and quickly muttered something in Estonian without looking at Mello. She retreated from the library without a single look at Mello.

Mello merely shrugged and bit off another piece of chocolate with a loud snap.


	3. Tokens of Friendship

**Chapter Three** – Tokens of Friendship

It had now been three days since Ryuzaki had brought Layla to Whammy's and slowly she had been adapting to life there. Mostly, the children and tutors were kind to her, a few of them speaking small words of comfort to her in Estonian that they had learned from Ryuzaki. However, she unsettled them all. The day after she had arrived at the orphanage, during dinner time several of the students had seen her at quietly conversing to something that none of the others could see.

Ryuzaki had admonished them quietly as they stared blankly at her. However, he hated to admit he also found it a slight bit unsettling as well. Most children with imaginary friends would talk to their invisible companions out of earshot with everyone else.

It made him wonder if perhaps she was actually suffering from schizophrenia like Whammy had originally told him in her case file.

When it became apparent that she was distracting the other children, Mello nudged her with his elbow.

Ryuzaki sighed and settled back into his seat, "Come on kids, continue your meals."

Later on that night after he had asked Watari to explain the rules of Whammy's House and help her get situated he assembled all the other children to the library.

The children all piled around his feet, their faces looking up eagerly at him. He benignly smiled at them and glanced at Mello who stood with his chocolate away from all the other students while Near sat playing with a puzzle a few feet away.

He chewed his thumbnail for a moment and spoke, "I understand that Linda may seem a little unsettling to you all at the moment."

"Her name is Layla." Mello interrupted, taking off a large chunk of his chocolate with a large snap.

Ryuzaki blinked, as it was quite unlike Mello to question or correct him.

"Well, to the rest of us she'll be known as Linda. As I'm sure you've noticed she's...off." He murmured, trying to find the right words. "I'm not sure if she'll stay here, she might be too ill to stay. here much longer. But, while she's here I'd like you all to be kind to her. Life in Estonia has not been particularly...easy. That is all."

Mello looked up startled as the other children started to depart from the room, all of them murmuring about the Estonian girl.

Ryuzaki sighed and crawled up onto the sofa, tapping his thumb carefully against his lips.

"There's nothing wrong with her." Mello murmured, walking over to his mentor.

Ryuzaki ruffled Mello's hair. "To be truthful, I am only about 9% certain her case of mental illness is so severe, however, I am going to start working on a new case, so I'll be leaving tonight Mello. I'd like you to continue to teach Linda english."

Mello nodded, a little sadly. He hated when L would leave. He loved L, more than anyone else in the orphanage did.

Gently, he felt Ryuzaki pull him upwards into his arms, although he was already ten years old he couldn't help but feel comforted by the feel of those arms around him.

Ryuzaki couldn't help it, he'd always had such a soft spot for Mello. He'd never been incredibly well fit for dealing with small children but Mello had always been so affectionate towards him. He loved all the kids in the orphanage, especially Mello and Near, but Near had always been so much...like him. Mello was everything Ryuzaki wished he could be. The boy felt everything with such incredible passion.

Slowly, he paced around the room, humming a lullaby and stroking Mello's soft straw colored hair. Soon enough, Mello fell asleep, his breath warm on Ryuzaki's neck.

He crept back up the stairway to where the children's bedrooms were kept and slowly pushed Mello's door open. He paused for a moment, smiling mildly at Mello's chocolate wrappings all over his desk.

Using one hand to hold Mello firmly against him, he pulled down the comforter and sheets, then placed Mello carefully on the bed. He pulled the sheets up to the boy's chin and then after glancing over his shoulder placed a kiss squarely on Mello's head.

"What did you think of her Watari?" Ryuzaki asked quietly as he finished the last bite of strawberry shortcake.

Watari sighed, "She's quite eccentric, but I don't think she's dangerous. The voice doesn't seem to tell her to harm anyone or hurt herself. She only told me that it keeps her company while she paints. I do agree that her paintings are quite astounding. I think she could stay. I believe that the voices will fade away in time. I think that perhaps this Sidoh was a coping mechanism to deal with her overtly religious lifestyle."

Ryuzaki tapped the fork against his lips, "Perhaps it isn't a good idea to have Mello be her caretaker...he's quite devout."

Watari nodded and began picking up the remains of Ryuzaki's leftover cake, "I think that Mello needs to feel responsible for another person. Linda is not near his intelligence, and I think having someone who he can tutor is beneficial to his development."

Ryuzaki nodded, "Very well, we'll see how it turns out then."

It had been almost a month since Layla had arrived and today she and Mello were attempting to study in the library.

It was a beautiful day outside, and Layla stared wistfully through the window. The snow fell beautifully on the branches of the tree and all around the fountain. It would make a beautiful painting.

"Layla! Listen!" Mello snarled, slamming his hand on the table, all the while still reading his book

Layla jumped, and winced. She liked Mello but found that he was impatient, and ill tempered and soon she learned that many of the children were afraid of him. He was a harsh teacher, often screaming at her in English, the tone in his voice enough to make her cry.

She found that today would probably turn out this way.

"Come on," Mello said impatiently glancing at her from behind the pile of books on his desk. "Sound it out."

Layla's brow furrowed as she glanced at the book. She studied the picture for a moment, which showed a little girl running from a dog.

"See...Jan...roon," she stammered.

Mello scoffed, and she winced, knowing that she had said it wrong. She wanted to make him happy with her. Proud even, like she had made Ryuzaki with her artwork. She tried again.

"See...Jan...Ja-Jane...Ron."

Mello slammed his book down angrily, "Stupid, don't you understand how simple this is? Why did L. bring you here? You're worth nothing! You can't even read a child's book!"

"Not two, not two!" She yelled back, her tongue stumbling over the word true.

Mello laughed meanly, "You can't even say true!"

She fought the tears that began to spill from her eyes, "No, no! You bad one! Sidoh say so!"

Her teacher's eyes widened briefly, then he smirked. "Sidoh, that imaginary thing who you talk to at night when you think we're all asleep? I've heard you. You're crazy."

Now the tears spilled hotly over her cheeks, "No! Not crazy."

"Yes, crazy and stupid." Mello said, as he packed up his books. He didn't fully understand why, but he wanted to be cruel to her, make her run from him. "You know, I bet that's why your parents gave you up so easily."

Mello found the hurt on her face surprisingly unsatisfying. He then watched blankly as she ran from him, then started down the hallway towards his room.

_She's stupid,_ he thought to himself. _She can't even speak proper english! What kind of word is __roon anyway? I hope she __**does**__ go back to Estonia so we can all get some peace at night without her muttering to that Sidoh thing._

However, now he felt guilty, L would have been ashamed of that.

Muttering to himself, he made his way back to his own room where he found Matt lounging at his desk.

"Matt, what are you doing here?" he snapped, making his way over to the desk and opening the drawer that contained at least fifteen chocolate bars. He snatched one of the bars and hastily ripped open the foil. Then, he bit a tiny corner of the chocolate, smiling at the rush of sweetness on his tongue.

Matt did not look up from the gameboy, "I always come in here when you're out tutoring Linda."

Mello scowled, "You have some nerve Matt. How do you know I won't come in here?"

Matt shrugged, "You just don't, Aw man, my Charmander fainted."

Mello rolled his eyes at red-haired boy and flopped lazily on his bed, licking the chocolate bar slowly, savoring the taste. Then, he sat up and stared at Matt, "What do you think of Layla?"

Matt turned off the gameboy and looked at his friend, "You mean Linda? Well, she seems nice enough, kinda weird though. One night when I was heading to the bathroom, I saw her wandering the hallways talking in another language."

The blond boy sighed, his sharp blue eyes looking troubled. "I was mean to her today."

Matt shrugged, "You're always mean, Mello."

"Yeah, but I told her she was crazy, and that was why her parents gave her away to this place."

Matt folded his arms over his chest and pulled down his goggles over his eyes like he always did when he was thinking, "Ouch Mello. That's pretty harsh."

Mello sighed, "I made her cry. L would have been mad."

His friend stared up at him, looking as if Mello was missing a crucial part of his brain. "So just go apologize. Tell her you're sorry."

Mello faltered, looking quite sheepish. "Y-you think...she'll forgive me?"

Matt chuckled, "Mello you're like her only friend."

After a moment Matt glanced out the window, where he could see Layla marching outside a bag tied to a stick behind her. He fought the urge to laugh at the almost cartoonish image.

"Hey Mello, she's outside. Looks like she's running away. You'd better go stop her." he muttered.

Mello's face contorted in fear and he rushed out of his room, leaving Matt behind. Matt sniggered and slowly opened Mello's chocolate drawer. He snatched one of the bars and turned on his gameboy again.

Mello rushed outside, not acknowledging the cold snow on his bare feet. "Layla! Wait!"

Layla who was a few feet ahead of him stopped and turned, looking mildly surprised. "Yes Mello?"

Mello bobbed back and forth on his feet, "Uh, where are you going?"

Layla, like Matt looked at Mello as if he was missing a part of his brain, "Home."

"Estonia?" Mello asked curiously, "How are you gonna get there?"

Layla shrugged and glanced down at the snow covered ground, "I walk home."

Mello shook his head at the dark haired painter, "Layla, Estonia is really far, and you have to go across the sea. You can't swim there. This is your home now."

At those words she stomped her foot angrily. With a rage Mello had never seen from her, she tossed down the sack and stick containing her belongings in the snow. "This not my home! No church, no mama, no brother. Nothing here! Hate it. Try to learn english but not no good at it. Only good at painting."

Mello looked sheepishly at her and picked up the sack containing her belongings. "You're good at stuff Layla. You're doing well with english too. I'm...sorry, I just lose my temper sometimes."

Layla snorted, "That's why you always alone Mello. You let nobody be friendly."

Mello raised his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Take it easy, here. We're friends now." He reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small crucifix he had received from his mother as an extra to the one he always wore.

He handed it to her and she stared at it for a moment, fingering the crystal cross. "Thank you Mello."

Then, her eyes brightened and she took her things from Mello. Opening the cloth, she pulled out a rolled up sheet of paper, revealing a lifelike sketch of Mello. He stared at it and fingered the sketching. "It's beautiful Layla. Thank you."

"We friends now." She said, "You be nicer. Wanna go inside? You got no shoes."

Mello's laughter rang out all across the courtyard and the two of them slowly made their way inside.


	4. Gabriel Unstane

**Chapter Four** – Gabriel Unstane

The average adult would perhaps say that Gabriel Unstane was unusual to say the least. He had grown up with a incredible array of inventive talents. He had originally reminded Whammy of himself as a child, and that was why he was so quick to take young Gabriel into Whammy's house. However, Gabriel Unstane's abilities veered towards clocks.

He was referred to as the letter U. Soon after he arrived he'd begun calling himself Until. It seemed fitting anyways, the way clocks counted the until time was up. He loved clocks. Loved putting them together and taking them apart. Almost every clock in the Whammy's house had been tinkered with by Until

Today was not much different, he sat alone in his room while the other children played outside, overjoyed with England's rare good weather. His main clock was bothering him greatly. He usually kept it above his bedside, and this morning when he had awakened, it had been stopped at noon.

Until glanced down at his wristwatch, noticing that it was only a few minutes before noon anyway and he was slightly grateful that his wristwatch was at least still working. He tinkered with the back of the broken clock for a few more moments until it finally started ticking again and he smiled, pleased with himself.

And then it happened, he was struck with a strange sudden feeling. A feeling that his body was not his own. And there was depression, a sudden deep feeling of depression that overtook him.

The clocks spun all around him, their faces seeming contorted and full of evil smiles, driving him mad.

"Stop, stop." he begged, "Stop laughing at me!"

The clock that he had just been working on was the cruelest of all, its face contorted with the meanest face of all. It laughed at him.

Until picked up the clock he had just been working on and lifted it slowly over his head, bringing it down on his desk, shattering the face. Glass flew everywhere, and Until picked up a glass piece staring at how it sparkled in the light of the window. He could almost see his reflection in it.

He brought the piece to his neck and slowly dragged the glass across his skin, blood squirted in tandem with his heartbeat and he collapsed to the floor.

Blood pooled around him and he stared up at the window and out at the beautiful blue sky. It almost seemed as if it too was mocking him.

In that moment, he heard the large grandfather clock downstairs chime one o'clock. How perfect after all, he was always on time.

Then, his vision faded to black.

* * *

"Come on Mello!" Matt snorted, waving wildly. "Throw the ball!"

Mello, Matt, and Layla all sat out in the courtyard, seemingly happy about the gorgeous weather that graced them today. As usual, Mello was playing his own game of keep-the-ball while Matt wanted to play soccer.

"Don't you want to play Layla?" Mello asked, staring at the dark haired little girl who sat drawing by the fountain.

She shook her head, then continued patiently with her sketching.

The scream that littered throughout the courtyard made Layla jump, nearly dropping her sketchbook in the water. Both Matt and Mello stopped their antics and looked up at the orphanage.

"What was that?" Matt asked, looking somewhat frightened.

"Dunno," Mello said, "That scream sounded too scared to be just someone kidding around."

Matt pulled down his goggles over his eyes as if to seem more prepared as he spoke, "We should go check it out."

"Come over here Layla," Mello commanded.

The Estonian girl nodded, gathering her things in her arms hastily before jogging lightly to Mello's side, her pigtails swinging wildly.

Suddenly, a woman burst through the doors of Wammy's House, running out into the courtyard. The woman, Anya was a maid who occasionally cleaned the children's rooms every month. She often complained particularly about Mello's room, noting that he had far too many chocolate bars in the area and that it was going to attract bugs. Mello always had just assumed that she was crazy.

And now, she certainly looked crazy with her hair all in tangles as she ran out into the courtyard. When she reached the three of them Mello could smell the thick scent of blood on her clothes where it blossomed on her skirt like a flower.

Thankfully, Watari rushed outside soon after, cradling Anya in his arms while the students looked on, completely stunned. "There, there." he said gently to her, patting her head in a grandfatherly sort of way. Then, he turned to the children. "There's been a grave accident. Everyone, kindly go inside and wait in the drawing room."

The children waited hastily in the drawing room, all of them gathered in circles around one another. Mello, Layla, and Matt all gathered closest to the fireplace. Matt had his hands resting on his knees, a videogame thankfully not in his grasp for once.

"What do you think it could be?" he said slowly, staring at the fire, "Why was Anya covered in so much blood?"

Mello, who was usually eager to offer his opinion on anything was quiet. He shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal way and placed his head on his knees.

"What do you think Linda?" Matt asked.

Layla who had been sketching furiously on paper glanced up, surprised at being asked her opinion on anything even if he didn't use her real name. Mello's sharp blue eyes focused up on her too and she felt oddly put on the spot. "I fink..."

"Think," Mello said with a sigh, burying his head in his arms. "You think. Not 'fink'."

Layla fell silent now and went back to her sketching.

Matt scowled, "Mello, let her talk. She never says anything because you always bump her down a notch whenever she mispronounces anything."

Mello glared at the goggled boy. "Shut up Matt. If Layla is going to learn anything here its going to be decent english."

The two glared at each other for a long time, until Layla spoke "Ow."

Mello jumped, looking over at Layla who was rubbing at her shoulders with a slightly pained look. Over her shoulders Zion looked mildly at her. Zion had apparently shoved himself into Layla and she now rubbed her shoulder, slightly pained.

Suddenly, Zion grabbed Layla's shoulders, squeezing roughly. He pressed his lips to her ear, "Cursed be those who see the devil in her eyes. Do you see the devil Linda Levandi?"

"Piss off, Zion." Mello snapped, leaping to his feet and pulling Layla away from the red haired boy's grasp.

"Yeah," Matt sneered, "Why don't you go play in the corner with your bells?"

He pointed a finger at Mello, his brown eyes flashing dangerously, "Beware of the devil in her eyes. The ink that stains her hands is red with blood."

Mello's fingers dug painfully into Layla's arms and she squirmed.

"Its true you know," a voice purred silkily in her ear.

She jumped, her heart pounding in her chest and turned her head slightly. Blood red eyes greeted her that were set in a skull that looked like pictures of bulls or rams that she had seen in classes with Mello and Matt.

It had long shaggy fur around its neck, arms, and legs. It's skin looked leathery and smooth, like the couches and chairs found in Wammy's house. A hugely beaded red necklace hung around it's neck and clinked threateningly when it reached up and used a clawed hand to stroke at her cheek.

The rest of the students stared as Layla began thrashing wildly and screaming "Don't touch me!" over and over.

Mello tried his best to restrain her, throwing himself over her until the two of them fell to the ground, Mello on top of her while they struggled.

"There's nothing there!" Mello said loudly, then focusing his gaze on Matt who was staring at the two of them. His mouth was opened widely and he jumped when Mello addressed him.

"Go get Watari, now!"

He ran towards Watari's office, his goggles bouncing against his chest.

Mello continued trying to calm Layla who was beside herself with fear and she squirmed for a few moments then relaxed underneath him. Mello eased himself off of her, watching her in slight amazement as she curled on the floor sobbing piteously.

He had always known how to throw a punch, how to hurt someone verbally with a word or two, how to give someone a look that would make them fall silent. But, Mello was completely unsure about how to go about reassuring someone so he rubbed Layla's back and prayed Watari would arrive soon.

Watari arrived a moment later, and thanked Mello gently telling Layla to go with one of the maids to her room. She wiped at her eyes with a closed fist and nodded.

Mello look at Watari and spoke, all the students watching them with fascinated expressions.

"What happened this morning?"

Watari sighed suddenly, looking very tired and Mello fancied he could see every wrinkle that was etched out in his face. "Until is dead."

There was a collective gasp all around the room, but Mello's sharp blue eyes were focused on Zion who merely played with his bells as if he could not hear.


	5. Vulnerability

**Chapter Five** – Vulnerability

_She's afraid._ Mello thought, glancing at Layla who stared at the coffin with an expression of either fear or sadness. He couldn't exactly tell.

Three days ago, Until had died and Watari had arranged a hasty funeral. Layla looked pale and sickly as Watari spoke about Until's inventiveness and his kindness towards all of them. Mello had never particularly noticed such a trait from him and he was sure none of the others had either but, they all knew far too better than to say so.

Mello shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then paused to gaze at all the other boys, looking like a large black puddle in the haze of black suits. Their hair and heights were the only thing that differentiated at all and suddenly Mello was struck with the image of all of them with no hair. He bit back the urge to laugh. He tightened his hand on his crucifix and vowed to pray for Until's soul. His mother had always told him that sometimes if you prayed hard enough for a dead person God would listen and grant them entrance into heaven.

But, sometimes Mello didn't feel like God ever listened to him about anything.

Layla sighed suddenly and shut her eyes shaking her head blandly. Mello watched her blankly out of the corner of his eye, then spoke. "You still hear them don't you?"

She nodded and glanced out of the corner of her eye where a few feet away Zion was standing and watching the funeral with a bored expression on his face. His black suit and tie seemed to fit him like clothes fit on a store mannequin, stiff, with no naturalness about them. However, there was not a single thing beside him that Mello could see that could pose a threat to her.

"There's nothing there." he said firmly.

She looked down at her hands that were clasped firmly in her lap and Mello could see the tears that began to gather at the edge of her eyes. Without thinking, he reached over and clasped her hand sharply in his own, trying to ignore the warm droplets that fell periodically on his wrist.

Watari inclined his head at the two of them and then stepped away from the stand as several men in suits slowly lowered the pale marble coffin into the ground.

The children dispersed as the first clod of dirt from Ryuzaki's shovel hit the casket. Mello however did not move, stopping to watch Ryuzaki move with the strange catlike fluidity that he had come to associate as it's own form of strength.

After about thirty minutes of tossing dirt over the coffin Ryuzaki stopped and stuck the shovel harshly into the ground. He bowed his head for a moment and Mello could see the faintest movement of his lips in what he assumed was prayer.

He turned suddenly and gazed at the two of them. Mello suddenly let go of Layla's hands his face flushing a hot crimson. He was aware of how stupid the two of them must have looked among the empty whiteness of the chairs that Watari had arranged ahead of the funeral.

Ryuzaki sauntered over to them and sat in the chair beside Mello, drawing his legs up against his chest. Mello tried not to notice how the edge of Ryuzaki's pant legs had risen slightly and he could see the faint paleness of veins as his feet became hidden by his shoes.

"Its a beautiful day, isn't it?" he said softly.

Mello nodded, unsure of what to say. The clouds were a dim, dismal gray and already he could feel wet droplets falling onto the edge of his face.

"I think that Until would have liked it today. Today is a clean day." Ryuzaki said softly, biting into his thumbnail.

"Its ugly outside." Layla said softly, and Mello fought the overwhelming urge to cuff her in the back of the head for being so disrespectful to his mentor.

"I'm surprised you think so Linda." Ryuzaki said suddenly, "I thought you had an eye for beauty."

She fell silent, looking away from both Mello and Ryuzaki.

After a moment Ryuzaki stood, "In any case, I think we can all see the beauty in some ice cream. Besides, you'll both catch a cold being out in the rain like this."

It was true too, rain began to pour heavily.

Both Mello and Layla stood and Ryuzaki stood in between the two of them, clasping both of their hands in one of his own as they began walking towards the large house.

Ryuzaki lead them to his private office and after a moment Watari came in with three bowls of chocolate ice cream.

Mello almost immediately delved into the ice cream, as did Ryuzaki. Layla however looked troubled and had only eaten a few spoonfuls.

"What's the matter Linda?" Ryuzaki asked, glancing up from his own bowl of ice cream. "Don't care for chocolate?"

She looked up at him, and smiled a little sadly. "Is nothing, just..."

Mello pinched the bridge of his nose sharply between his fingers, "Its nothing." he corrected. He pushed his empty bowl of ice cream quickly away from him and stood. "Come on Layla. Thank you for the ice cream L."

"Leaving so soon?" Ryuzaki asked, tapping his fingers in front of his nose. "I'd like to talk to you both for a little while longer."

Mello sat obediently down and looked up at Ryuzaki through widened blue eyes.

Ryuzaki smiled at the two of them before scooting Layla's ice cream over for Mello to eat.

"Linda, are you enjoying it here?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She glanced sharply between Mello and Ryuzaki as if trying to determine what answer both of them wanted to hear.

"Linda, please answer honestly."

She raised her finger up to her mouth and let out a tiny sigh, "Sometimes."

This captured Mello's attention and he stopped eating the ice cream, his sharp blue eyes focusing on Layla's face.

"Wh-what do you mean sometimes?" Mello snapped, "I thought everything had gotten better after I stopped you from running away!"

Ryuzaki raised up a pale slender hand to stop Mello from speaking.

"Why only sometimes Linda?"

She looked afraid now, and Ryuzaki watched her rub her small stocking covered feet together nervously. "I seeing more than just Sidoh now..." she said quietly, her tiny hands clenching onto the edge of her ruffled black dress.

Now Ryuzaki stood, and ambled over to Layla's side, crouching in front of her so that he could peer into her eyes. "Linda, look at me, please."

She raised her head up and looked at Ryuzaki, slight fear glossing her pupils.

"Did you see something the night of Until's death?"

"Yes she did!" Mello blurted out, "That night when Watari had called us all inside, in the drawing room after Zion bumped into her, she saw something and started screaming."

Ryuzaki looked at Mello and nodded, then turned back to Layla, placing a spider-like hand on her shoulder. "What did you see Linda?"

She shook her head, refusing to elaborate until Mello jumped down from his chair. "Layla, tell L what you saw! He can help you!"

She glanced suddenly at Mello, watching his blue eyes shimmer with emotion and she looked back at Ryuzaki who was peering owlishly into her eyes.

"I saw...a monster." she mumbled, unable to look at either of the two males in the room. "Told me what Zion said was true."

Now Ryuzaki turned to Mello, "What did Zion say to her Mello?"

Mello scowled suddenly, "Zion said that the ink that stained her hands was red because of blood and that she had demons in her eyes. B-but, it can't mean anything..."

Ryuzaki placed his thumb in his mouth, chewing mildly on his fingernail. "I see, thank you both. Why don't you go downstairs and play a game? It'll get your minds working and help you focus on other things."

The two children stood, and Mello led Layla down the stairs and into the drawing room where several children played with toys and puzzles.

"Mello," Layla said suddenly, staring up at Mello while he dug through boardgames that were stacked in the corner of the room.

He turned to look at her, his long blond hair falling in his eyes, "Yeah?"

She bit her lip sheepishly, then spoke, "How you get to be here?"

Mello stopped suddenly, then sat quietly on the floor. He pulled at his rosary, then sighed.

"I was born in Russia. My mother was a famous ballerina and...my father...he was in the russian mafia. My father owed money to some men, and one day, they came into our house..." He faltered slightly and his voice seemed thick when he spoke again.

"They came into our house, and my mother shoved me underneath the bed. She gave me her rosary, and told me to shut my eyes and pray as hard as I possibly could. I prayed, but...I could hear the men shoot my father. They killed my mother afterwards. But, they never found me, and I was put in an orphanage in Moscow soon after. A year later Watari found me, and now I'm here."

Layla winced in sympathy for the blond boy. No wonder his temper flared up so much. For a moment, she considered her own situation. Even with all their flaws Layla's family was still alive, and she still had a brother who cared very much for her. Mello had no one.

"I'm sorry, Mello." she said, staring at him as he drew his knees to his chest.

Without thinking she reached over and squeezed his hand, much like he had held hers during the funeral. He smiled slightly at her, then resumed staring out at Until's newly formed grave.

Their slightly peaceful silence was broken by Near and Mello glanced up, "What do you want?" he snarled.

Near twisted a lock of white hair around his finger and ignored Mello, preferring to speak directly to Layla. "Last night when you were afraid, what did you see?"

She found his voice quite monotone and opened her mouth to speak. She jumped suddenly and glanced over her shoulder, nodding, then she fell into a sharp terse silence.

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Mello sneered, "She only talks to me...and Matt...sometimes."

Now, Near addressed Mello, in the same bored, monotone voice, "Perhaps Mello, is only misinterpreting silence into loyalty."

Mello's face flushed a hot crimson and he stood, knocking the chair backwards, "She is loyal to me! She knows I don't like you and that's why she's not talking."

Near gave the blonde boy a quiet look, then turned back to Layla who was staring determinedly at the ground, gnawing on her lip like a starving animal.

"I see." He said quietly, then turned to amble off into his corner of the room where he finished a puzzle at a rapid speed. He took small glances at Layla every now and then.

"Freak." Mello snarled after him, he then turned his gaze on Layla and his blue eyes softened minutely. "T-That is why you didn't talk to him right?"

Layla glanced over her shoulder again, then turned to smile gently at Mello, "Yes. Mello is my friend only."

It was hard to tell, but Near noticed Mello's shoulders relaxing ever so slightly and he filed it away in his mind underneath the cabinet labeled Mello.


	6. A Perfect Memory

**Chapter Six** – A Perfect Memory

Layla Levandi's days at Wammy's House for Gifted Children bled rapidly into one another, passing much like pages in a well loved childhood story. The days began to run into weeks, then those weeks became months, nearly becoming a full year. A fact Mello was quick to point out to her one day when they were studying in the library.

"You've nearly been here a year." Mello stated plainly, watching the Estonian girl take careful notes from his old English textbooks.

Her english had improved after careful diligence on Mello's part. He'd suspected it'd had something to do with him telling her the story of his parents, and how he came to be at Wammy's. It had given her a sort of new respect for him, and afterwards he couldn't help but note that she worked harder.

She glanced up from her notes, and gave Mello a quick, tiny smile. "Yes."

Mello wrinkled his nose, he'd never grow used to that atrocious accent of hers though, it made everything she said sound like it was being said past a mouthful of vowels. The letters seemed long and elongated, curly too, as if they were being dragged through the edge of a curling iron.

"Are you happy?" he demanded suddenly.

Layla shrugged, a noncommittal gesture that often vexed Mello to no end.

"Give me an answer!" he snapped.

"As happy...as...I could be, I fink." she said, "Think, sorry."

Mello seemed satisfied with this answer, and turned to gaze over at Until's grave. The delicate flowers that had just bloomed over the mound the previous spring were already dying and he let out a small sigh.

Instinctively, his hand shot out mildly to make the sign of the cross, force of habit he supposed.

The two children sat in mild silence, Mello reading quietly while Layla scribbled away on her english notes.

Finally, the clock chimed for lunch and Mello sighed, "Let me see your notes."

She handed the notes to Mello, which he looked over quickly, scrawling over her work in pen to make hasty corrections.

"Its getting a little better," he said, standing to stretch while Layla gathered her things and placed them in her bag.

A moment later, a soccer ball smacked Mello squarely in the head sending the blond boy catapulting to the floor.

"Hi Mello." Matt said cheerfully, picking up the soccer ball and bouncing it on each knee repeatedly.

"Matt." Mello said shortly, rubbing the back of his blond hair, "Do you always have to do that?"

"I'm afraid so," the goggled boy said, "I'm starving."

"You're always hungry," Mello snapped, following the boy to through the library, "Come on Layla.

"And you're always stuffing your face with chocolate bars. Yeah Linda, come on." Matt adde"d looking over his shoulder at the Estonian girl who was lagging behind them.

"Its Layla." Mello snapped.

"L says to call her Linda," Matt snorted, "Like everyone calls you Mello instead of Mihael."

"She's not in line to be a successor, so she shouldn't have a codename." Mello muttered.

Matt looked annoyed now, and blew a puff of air from his cheeks, sending his red hair fluttering up over his eyes. "Don't get so jealous _Mihael_. I'm sure she could be a successor if she applied herself enough. We should call her Linda."

As Layla had expected, the two boys turned on her, Mello folding his arms over his chest and looking impatient while Matt smiled benignly at her.

"Well," Matt said kindly, "Which do you prefer?"

Mello let out a huff, "It doesn't really matter does it? As long as she has some kind of name."

She appeared thoughtful for a moment, then gave Mello a small smile, "I like Layla."

"Ha!" Mello snorted, turning and beginning to walk out of the library, "I told you! I'll meet you at lunch."

"You shouldn't let him do that you know," Matt said, once Mello was out of earshot. "Mello's a bit of a bully. He'll step all over you if you let him."

The Estonian girl let out a sheepish smile, "I know..I don't mind."

Then she too walked out of the library leaving Matt to rub his head and mutter the word "Girls," before following his friends out into the hallway.

Lunch was often a torrid affair, with various children eating and running amuck. During her first few days at Wammy's several of the boys had found Layla as an object of fascination. Being the only girl in Wammy's house several of them tried to begin conversations with her and she found herself drowned in offers for help with english.

Mello however quickly shut them all down, stating that L had appointed him as her mentor and things would most certainly stay that way. It was as if Mello had staked some sort of claim over her head. And she often felt as if she walked around with a bright neon sign over her face that read: Property of Mello. Not that it bothered her any.

But, because of this claim, lunch was often a bit of a lonesome affair and Layla often found herself eating silently while Mello plotted how he would beat Near in some test or project and Matt twiddled away on his gameboy, not paying attention to anything.

It was during times like these that Layla would see Sidoh, her dearest friend. No matter if L, Mello, and anyone else in Wammy's couldn't see him, that didn't matter. Layla could see him and to her, that made him real enough.

Today though, Sidoh had situated himself directly behind Mello and that made her nervous. Though Sidoh only passed through people, she didn't like it when he was near Mello and she pleaded with her eyes for him to back away. After the events with Until, Layla had learned that it was perhaps more prudent to speak to Sidoh only at night when everyone else was asleep. It made her seem more normal, more likable.

And she did want to be liked.

Sidoh clicked his bone-like fingers together, reminding Layla of hollow wood clinking together and rustled his bandaged shoulders. He cocked his head playfully at her and she mimicked the action, fighting a laugh.

He often reminded her of a canary, though he didn't exactly look like one, but his long bony fingers reminded her of a bird's feet and the strange shape of his mouth could be considered beaklike.

He rustled over to her side, and she prayed he wouldn't lift a strand of her hair in that way he often did. It tickled and made her head itch, and Mama always said it was bad manners to scratch one's head at the dinner table.

Still though, he reached over and pet her hair affectionately before fluttering off to wait for her in her bedroom.

"What are you staring at?" Mello snapped.

Layla blinked, unaware she was staring at Mello, "Thinking of a drawing."

"Well think towards Matt's direction." he snorted, "You're making me nervous."

The rest of the day passed quickly, the three of them going outside to play right after lunch, then it was back to the specialized lessons that each child had. Watari had given every student lessons that fitted their personalities, Matt was studying computer programming, something he did excel at, because every week it seemed he had hacked into a different video game and sometimes Layla caught him scribbling computer code into a notebook.

Mello had various lessons, and from the cryptic things he told her, it seemed that he studied everything from science, to literature, to math, and even some art. But, his real genius it seemed lay in his ability to pick people apart. To study someone and know instantly what kind of person they were, just by having a conversation with them. Mello could read people, like he read a book. Psychology, he called it.

Needless to say, it made him an excellent manipulator and she had seen this at work several times, Mello telling people exactly what they wanted to hear so they would to exactly what he wanted. The thought had frightened her at first until Matt had explained that Mello wouldn't do that to them, he considered them friends and friends didn't manipulate each other.

Layla's own lessons were interesting too. Originally, her lessons had started out with the study of various art and the history of it, until her instructor, a Chinese woman named Mei Ling noticed something else.

Layla was a talented painter, that in itself was fact, but what had caused her to be such a good painter was her memory. Often, while Layla painted, Mei Ling played various tunes on the piano and one day, Layla had gotten frustrated at her attempt to paint an orphan's joyful expression at finding his lost toy. But, human expressions could be difficult. Frustrated, Layla strode over to to watch her teacher pluck out various notes on the ivory and black keys.

"Would you like to try?" she'd asked, giving Layla one of her easily patient smiles.

"Let me watch you." Layla had said, "Then I try."

Mei Ling had nodded, then began plucking out the eastern notes while smiling mildly at the girl "It is meant to mimic the sounds of the wind. Light and airy."

She had played half of the piece, then motioned lightly to the keys. "You try, Layla."

Layla had sat beside the woman and began plucking out the melody with her fingers.

Mei Ling's amusement had quickly become astonishment, and she had practically run from the room, yelling for Roger while simultaneously telling Layla to keep playing. Roger too seemed astounded when he watched Layla play.

"How can this be?" Mei Ling had said, "She's never had any musical training and as you've told me before her IQ is slightly above average, yet, she plays the piece just as I did."

She had been given several tests, many of them involving music and memorization while there had been no explanation for the seemingly magical skill. Until exasperatedly, Roger had called in Watari. Watari watched the spectacle with some mild amusement before sitting down next to Layla and playing small pieces of several different musical compositions, achieving the same result.

Finally he spoke very quietly, "My dear, how are you doing this?"

Then, Layla had explained, "I watch your hand. Moving. I see which key you hit, so I hit same."

"I see," Watari said kindly, then out of the blue asked something else, "Two weeks ago on thursday, what was offered for breakfast?"

"Pancakes, with eggs, or kippers. Toast or a roll. With tea, orange juice, or milk."

"Its her memory." Watari said suddenly, "Photographic memory, although I've never seen a case so accurate. I think, Ms. Mei Ling, that she watched your hand move over the keys, memorized which keys you hit, and hit them in the same manner, as you said. I'm sure that is how she paints so accurately as well."

"But, that doesn't explain why her english lessons with Mello are so difficult for her. If her memory is truly so extraordinary, she should have picked up english much faster." Roger said, patting the girl's head.

Watari looked thoughtful, "Perhaps she is more of a visual learner, Mello teaches her by actively having her use english, the way he learned, but she might pick it up better if he had her take notes and see the way english works."

He stood, and placed his bowler hat back on his head, "In any case, L would be delighted if she would also begin to study music with you Ms. Mei Ling. It seems she has a tiny knack for it."

Mei Ling's warm hands went over Layla's shoulders and she smiled cheerfully down at the girl, "Yes, we'll start music lessons right away! Won't that be fun?" Layla smiled up happily at the woman and nodded.

So, soon afterwards, Layla's lessons began to also incorporate music as well, something she enjoyed almost as much as drawing.

After her lessons today though, which had involved both perspective of art, and a particularly complicated piece, Layla was exhausted. She ate quietly with Mello and Matt before the three of them retired to their bedrooms to sleep.

However, a few hours later, she awoke with a start, feeling the familiar touch of Sidoh's long bony fingers over her hair.

"Sleepy," she mumbled in Estonian, "Not now."

"We never get to talk as much anymore," Sidoh said softly in Estonian as well. "You're so busy."

Layla rolled over and smiled up at her friend, "I'm sorry Sidoh, I will try to spend more time with you. Just everyone watches me so closely here. It's not like being so alone at home."

Suddenly, Sidoh stiffened, his birdlike head shifting over sharply. "He...he's here."

And then, she could see it too. The familiar antelope skull that had haunted her dreams appeared in the corner of the room, the white bone nearly glowing in the light from her window.

Layla clapped her hands over her mouth, trembling violently, while her brain chanted _I mustn't scream, I can't scream_. "You're not really there." she stated softly.

Then there was a soft, gentle laugh, yet it raised the hair on the back of her neck.

"Surely you don't believe that do you?"

Out of the overwhelming darkness in the corner that radiated from the skull thing's body Zion seemingly stepped out of the shadows, his long red hair fluttering over his shoulders.

"How you get in here?" she squeaked, edging up her bed, feet slipping on the sheets.

"_How you get in here_." Zion mimicked cruelly, "Tell me, Layla, do you hear the bells?"

Without warning, Zion began to pummel at her with his fists and Layla bit her fist sharply to keep from crying out. She began to sift through her thoughts, running through each memory as if it were a film. She focused sharply on her memory of Mello stopping her from running away, the apology in his eyes when he had told her she was good at things.

Shortly, after a sharp blow to the head she collapsed, and the memory of Mello's eyes flickered once and then faded into darkness.


	7. Emptiness and Percentage

**Chapter Seven **– Emptiness and Percentage

When Mello went down for breakfast, the first thing he noticed after filling his plate in a sleepy haze was that Layla was nowhere to be found.

This in itself was vexing to Mello, as he rather enjoyed talking her ear off about how much he despised Near, and how much better he was than everyone at Wammy's. It wasn't that he particularly felt better than everyone, and sometimes Mello wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or her.

It was nice, having her around, as much as Mello pretended to deny it. He liked people who did what he told them to, and Layla did that well enough. He also liked the fact that Layla listened to him. Even as a small child, Mello wasn't used to people listening, or caring about what he had to say anymore.

It had been different in Russia.

Mello's mother, Anzhela had been the Prima Ballerina for the Bolshoi ballet company. She had been very successful at her craft and had supported her entire family on her ballet skills alone. But the winter had been very harsh, and it seemed that fewer people had money to spare for such trivialities such as ballet. Desperate and starving, Anzhela had turned to a man she did not fully understand.

Kolenka Keehl was a dangerous man, known and well feared all throughout Russia. He had been born into the Keehl mafia family and was fully prepared to die in it. After the death of his father the previous head of the family, Kolenka stepped into his father's shoes and found they fit him perfectly. He was well adapted to mafia life, setting moral and strict code that all beneath him lived by. However, he was known as a generous man, often willing to give others aid provided they were loyal.

So when a young ballerina, twenty years Kolenka's junior had come to his doorstep, begging for assistance to feed her seven brothers and sisters how could he refuse? He had given her enough rubles to last through the winter, and some time after. In return, he had merely asked for a ticket to see her next performance. She agreed wholeheartedly and provided him a ticket for Swan Lake from inside the folds of her threadbare coat pocket.

Not surprisingly, Anzhela was cast as the beautiful Odette, and Kolenka could only watch, captivated as the twenty year old woman had flitted gracefully across the stage on tiny, perfect feet. Afterwards, Kolenka had managed to push his way into her dressing room to present her with a bouquet of white roses. She had seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and had clasped his hand gratefully. The memory of the beautiful, blond dancer stuck in Kolenka's mind for days and he had approached her later asking her to accompany him to dinner.

The dinner itself was quiet, but Anzhela had provided good enough conversation telling Kolenka about her life and family. By the end of the evening, he had become convinced he was falling for a beautiful swan.

They were married exactly a year later. Kolenka did his best to keep his new bride pleased, often buying her expensive clothes and finery. But their arguments were hard, bitter things that woke the housekeepers. Anzhela hated the fact that Kolenka kept secrets from her, disappearing late into the night and not returning until the early hours of the morning. More often than not, Anzhela was left waiting up for him until the candles in the bedroom had melted down to the wick.

But soon after, Anzhela and Kolenka had a son, whom Kolenka had named Mihael, meaning "He who is like God." in the vain hope that his son would not follow in his father's footsteps and perhaps become a better man. Mihael was a beautiful boy, with his mother's flaxen hair and bright blue eyes, a young cygnet, who like his mother would also become a swan.

However, much to Kolenka's disappointment, Mihael proved to have inherited his father's personality as much as he inherited his mother's looks. He often hid things from his parents, first little things like his mother's pearls and later bigger things such as small coins from the housekeeper's belongings.

Kolenka himself had caught the boy in the act, and had proceeded to punish Mihael severely, promptly telling him that "A Keehl does not steal, we may lie, and we may cheat but we do not take from others."

But, Kolenka had taken some slight sympathy on the little boy, noting that he probably felt neglected due to his father's absence from the home and his mother's fanatic focus on her dancing. He began taking his son to church with him every Sunday when Anzhela had ballet practice. The boy showed a remarkably ability to understand the teachings of the bible, often understanding things before Kolenka had to explain them. After a few months Kolenka was relieved to notice that his son did not steal again and had gained a sort of quiet wisdom about him.

It was that quiet wisdom that made Kolenka begin to teach Mihael about their family business, something passed down father to son for generations. He taught the boy much about the mafia as his own father had done for him. He taught the boy how to shoot, and was surprised when Mihael picked up on the skill quickly and soon became far better than his own father, something Kolenka liked to brag about when he allowed Mihael into his mafia meetings.

However, when Mihael had turned seven, things became complicated for the Keehl family. A man from the Americas who arrogantly called himself "Top Cat" had demanded, for a mere sum of a million US dollars that Kolenka begin working with him to smuggle cocaine into Russia. Kolenka had slammed the door in the American's face, before telling him nastily that he would not tarnish his good family name by dabbling in such a disgusting habit.

Later in that evening, when Anzhela had been tucking Mihael into bed there had been a knock on the door. Kolenka had opened it to find a pistol shoved in his face, and Top Cat had proceeded to tell Kolenka that he was about to kill him. Very calmly, Kolenka had merely asked to tell his wife goodbye.

In a surprising display of sympathy Top Cat had nodded. Sure that the American gangster would not understand Russian, Kolenka called out to his wife and calmly explained that she was to hide their son and join him in the drawing room.

Anzhela had suddenly frozen, and there was a quiet scuffle between mother and son as the seven year old attempted to rush into the drawing room to save his father. Frantic, Anzhela had snatched Kolenka's rosary from around her neck and placed it firmly over Mihael's head, kissing both his cheeks and telling him she loved him more than anyone could possibly imagine.

She promptly shoved the boy underneath his bed and told him to cover his ears and pray as hard as he possibly could. Still, even through his praying Mihael could hear the sound of three gunshots as loud as cannons and his mother's anguished, strangled scream.

A few moments later, Anzhela had backed herself into Mihael's room, standing just in front of the bed, in an attempt to provide a barrier between Top Cat and her son. Mihael watched, petrified as Top Cat pushed his mother down on top of the bed and shot her twice. He clamped his small hands over his mouth, while tears streamed unbidden down his cheeks. Without a word Top Cat and his men left, the click of the door seeming loud in the darkness. He stayed under the bed for thirty minutes until he was sure no one would return.

Once he crawled out from under the bed he dashed to the drawing room where his father lay bleeding to death on the floor. Speaking in frantic russian, the little boy crawled over his father's chest sobbing pitifully. Breathing hoarsely, Kolenka had clumsily wiped the child's tears away with his fingers and fingered the rosary around the boy's neck before promptly dying in Mihael's arms.

When the housekeeper had found the boy the next morning, he was still clinging to his father's body. It had taken two men to pry the child away. Because no one could find any living person that was related to the boy he was sent to an orphanage in Moscow.

The caretakers had soon learned that Mihael was full of heated rage. He got into fights often, especially with the boys who teased him about his girlish looks and devout religiousness. One evening a boy had leafed through Mihael's sparse belongings and had found a pinup photograph of Anzhela among them. He proceeded to pass the photo around to all the other boys in the orphanage before asking Mihael if his mother had been a whore.

That evening, Mihael had filled his pillowcase with rocks and had proceeded to crush the boy's jaw and nose with the makeshift sling. Afterwards, the blond boy was sent into solitary confinement among the orphanage and that was when he met Watari.

Watari who introduced himself to Mihael as Wammy had promptly told Mello that he was taking him somewhere much better than this orphanage. It would be another orphanage yes, but no one would adopt them, instead he would learn how to sharpen his unique gifts and Wammy had promised that by doing that, Mihael would some day capture the man who killed his family.

Mihael had raged at the old man, swearing and spitting at him in vicious Russian, but something in the old man's cheerful demeanor made Mihael trust him, and he found himself on a plane, traveling to Winchester, England, where he then met L.

Wammy had given him the name Mello once he realized the boy's unique ability to both experience and understand the motivations of others. Like Anthony de Mello, Wammy believed the boy would influence the world with his deep understanding of the human condition.

However, Mello flat out refused to learn english from the old man, stating that it was an ugly, nasty language used by violent Americans. It was then that he met L.

At first, when L tried to teach him the basics of english through a textbook Mello raged at him as well. Somehow the conversation shifted, and L asked Mello how his father had taught him things. At the word father, Mello had collapsed onto the floor, and sobbed explaining to L that his father was dead. L learned that Mello felt remarkable guilt for not running out and attempting to save his father from Top Cat. And L had felt pity for the sniveling, angry little boy who was so unlike the emotionless albino boy that L had previously been tutoring. In a strange, inexperienced sort of way, L enfolded the little boy in his arms and promised that he would become the boy's father now. Mello had seemed comforted by that revelation and L told him that as his father, he asked that Mello learn english. The two of them began reading books in together and L slowly taught the child english through actively having the boy use the words and phrases in his daily life and rewarding him with chocolate bars when he did well.

Other than L, no one at Wammy's House really paid much attention to his words or thoughts, except for Layla and as Mello sat down impatiently at the table next to Matt he couldn't help but feel a faint twinge of worry as breakfast passed and their was no sign of Layla anywhere.

"Have you seen Layla?" he asked Matt who peered at him briefly before going back to focus on his video game.

"Nope." he said calmly.

Perturbed Mello decided that she must have overslept and took it upon himself to wake her while ranting mentally about how lazy she was.

Once he found the door to her room, Mello knocked on it hastily. "You missed breakfast lazy!" he called.

After a moment of silence her voice came out tiny through the door. "Go away."

Mello blinked, it wasn't like Layla to command him and his first reaction was to attempt to knock the door down, but something in her tone was different and unrecognizable.

"Layla, what's the matter?" he called tentatively. "Are you sick?"

"No, not sick!" she said nastily, "Just want to be alone. Leave me 'lone, Mello."

Mello let out a huff, girls could be so moody sometimes, according to the older boys in Wammy's anyway.

He slowly eased the door open and gasped when he saw her.

She was curled up underneath the window that was directly in front of the door, and was covered in blossoming bruises. Layla had a single black eye and her lip was puffy, it looked as if someone had beat her senseless. She sniffled up at Mello softly and he knelt down beside her. "What happened to you?"

She shook her head and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "Not wanna talk 'bout it."

Mello ignored the improper english, feeling that it would have been particularly cruel for him to remind her of grammar flaws. However, he couldn't stand how pathetic she looked, trembling like a leaf and snot going down her nose in streams.

Unthinkingly Mello pulled up the edge of his sleeve to wipe at the younger child's face, Layla let out a little gasp and Mello pulled back his hand.

"I'm not going to hit you." he said firmly, then resumed wiping her face.

Afterwards, he sat next to her, looking at her a moment before pulling a chocolate bar out of his pocket.

"Want some?" he asked, offering her half of the bar.

The gesture alone surprised her, Mello was stingy with his chocolate and often didn't like to share. Layla shook her head and Mello waved the candy underneath her nose.

"You'll feel better." he stated. "Eat."

With a trembling hand she took the candy from him and muttered a thanks before nibbling on the chocolate enough to appease Mello. He finished his own candy greedily and then resumed looked at her.

"Who did that to you?" Mello asked, motioning towards the bruises.

Layla shook her head sharply, and Mello frowned unable to keep the anger from creeping into his tone, "Tell me!"

She shook her head again and Mello let out a disgusted sigh. "There's no one here you should be afraid of. Tell me who did this and I'll get 'em."

When it became apparent that she wasn't going to talk, Mello pulled on her hands with his own. "Come on then, lets go to the infirmary then. Someone will be able to make sure nothing on you is broken."

Over the next few days Layla became quieter and Mello found that instead of talking about all of his problems he was inquiring about hers. She hadn't been eating much and was unusually jumpy. The adults in the infirmary hadn't been willing to tell Mello much about her situation but he had overheard the words self inflicted and depression.

It bothered him. Layla was his friend after all, and he didn't think she was unhappy enough at Wammy's to inflict harm on herself, it just didn't seem like her.

Her paintings too had begun to become more sinister, filled with dark monsters instead of her usual cheerful flowerbeds and people. Mello had taken it upon himself to personally threaten every kid who gave her a funny look because of the bruises. He just didn't like it, the odd quietness that had befallen Wammy's because of her appearance, it wasn't like he cared_ that _much about her anyway.

When she disappeared for her lessons with Mei Ling, Mello noticed Near staring after her, a lock of pale white hair being twisted between his forefinger and thumb.

"What are you looking at her for?" Mello snarled.

Unperturbed, Near glanced over at Mello. "Her wounds look self inflicted."

"Well they aren't!" Mello snarled, "So don't look at her."

"Is she unhappy here?" Near asked, his voice still that cold, calculating tone that Mello despised.

"No." he snapped, "She's fine."

"She frightens them, the others...but, is there anyone she's acted strangely around?"

Mello growled, "Then they're idiots. There's not anything in her to be afraid of."

Near gave Mello a half hearted shrug, "Are you so sure of that?"

"Yes!" Mello said vehemently, "One hundred percent." he added, mimicking L.

But as the albino boy shuffled away, Mello began to wonder how much he was sure of.


	8. Birthday Insults

**Chapter Eight **– Birthday Insults

It was an unspoken rule in Wammy's House that on someone's birthday every child was due to give a gift to the student who's birthday was on that special day. Usually in December, Mello was far too concerned about his own birthday, the first birthday of the month to worry about any of the other children whose birthdays fell after his. Usually he just slapped something together with sticks and glue, not caring really if they enjoyed it or not.

During time at recess, Mello had given up his hour to help Layla's handwriting get better. For an artist, her handwriting was awful and kind of hard for him to read. Ever since the incident when he had found her covered in bruises she had disappeared into herself. No longer did she bother him, filling his ears with pointless chatter about colors and painting. She was just quiet. Just dutifully following him around and watching everyone around her with a scared look in her eyes.

It almost seemed as if when the bruises faded, Layla had faded away too. She hardly ever spoke anymore at all, and the whispers from the adults were constantly ringing in his ears.

_"Oh, she's gotten so sad looking...the way she follows little Mello around."_

_ "Yes, hasn't she? The doctor said her wounds were self inflicted, I wonder if Watari did the right thing, taking her from Estonia? She's so unhappy._

_ "But she was fine before, perhaps it's her birthday coming up? Maybe she misses her family around this time of year."_

And Mello had been floored by the maid's words. The thought had never really crossed his mind about Layla having any kind of birthday at all. She'd never mentioned it before and the idea seemed strange that she could actually have been born and had a day devoted to her. Then he felt stupid for never having asked about it himself. She probably knew when his birthday was, what with his constant talk of his life in Russia and how much his parents had lavished attention on him during his day of birth.

After watching her attempt to write the letter R for the fifth time and failing miserably he sighed, "When is your birthday Layla?"

She blinked, then looked up at him, seemingly started by the question. "My what?"

Mello huffed, "You know, your birthday. The day you were born."

"Oh!" she said, and gave Mello a careful smile that didn't really reach her eyes, "It's the first of December."

Almost instantly he blanched. December first? The first day of December? That was thirteen days before his own and he tried to push back the pang of jealousy that shot through him. Then, he recalled the the customary act of giving gifts and panic pushed way past the slight jealousy that he felt.

"December first? That's tomorrow!" he exclaimed.

She smiled at him again and nodded, "I will be nine."

"I don't care about how old you'll be," Mello said dismissively, "What do you want?"

Now, Layla's smile faded into quick confusion, "What? Why would I want anything?"

"Uh, because it's your birthday, stupid." Mello retorted.

She still looked confused though and Mello shook his head, annoyed by her ignorance.

"You know, as a gift, you're supposed to give people a present on their birthdays" he said.

Understanding suddenly shone in Layla's grey eyes and yet she still looked a little perplexed at his words.

"You're supposed to give a gift?" she said.

"Yes!" Mello replied, now exasperated with her cluelessness. "You know, didn't you have birthday parties in Estonia?"

Now she looked a little crestfallen and Mello regretted speaking at all, "No." she said blankly.

The knowledge that she'd never had a birthday party sunk in Mello's thoughts like an anvil. How could she miss a home where she'd never received a gift? Her life seemed so alien compared to his, Wammy's House must have seemed like a luxurious resort compared to Estonia. Why on earth would she miss that place?

They continued studying in silence and Mello's mind was already determining what to give her. If she'd never had a present, maybe a nice gift would cheer her up and throw her out of the rut she'd been in.

Later that evening, after classes and dinner were finished Mello was ransacking his room, searching for something to give to Layla for her birthday. Girls were hard, confusing. They didn't like soccer, or violent games, or hitting people until they cried. Girls were nothing like boys.

What had his mother liked? The thought seemed strange, and made his heart skip a beat. He usually avoided thinking about his mama the warm gingery smell of her after she washed her hair in the morning suddenly hitting his nose.

In the corner of Mello's room wedged between the desk was a small, loose floorboard, and it was that floorboard that Mello crawled to. He snatched the small letter opener that was in the bottom drawer of the desk and sticking the letter opener in the crevice, he pried the wood from its surroundings.

The damp smell of dust and dirt rose up to meet his nose. Biting back coughs, Mello pulled out a silver cigar box. It had been his father's, and he recalled the way it had sat perched on a table in his father's study. It was one of the few things he had managed to pack before being carted away to the orphanage in Moscow.

He opened the box carefully, leafing through the sparse belongings. He briefly fingered his mother's photograph, but then went to pick up a tiny comb that lay scant inches away from his fingers. It was a pretty, silver thing. A tiny cluster of crystals lay on the edge in the shape of a swan.

Mello recalled the way as a little boy he watched as his mother had pulled it down from the nape of her neck and put it in his hands. They way her blue eyes had shone brightly when she told him it was his father's wedding present to her. She had told him that there was love in that comb.

A few strands of his mother's blond hair still clung to the teeth and he picked them off, placing them carefully in the box.

Would it be okay, to give his mother's comb to Layla?

He ran through the options in his head, half considering making her something pointless out of sticks. Besides, what if she broke it or something? Her hair wasn't nearly as pretty as his mother's, at all. But, maybe it would make her a little happier too, especially if she had never gotten a present before. His mother had said that there was love in that comb, that it made her happy. What if it could make Layla happy, make her better?

In the end, Mello wrapped the comb up carefully in newspaper, setting it on his bedside table before going to sleep for the evening.

When Layla opened her bedroom door the next morning, she seemed surprised when Mello thrust a bundle of newspaper in her hands.

"Open it," Mello said impatiently.

After rubbing sleep from her eyes, Layla carefully unwrapped the newspaper while Mello looked on impatiently, tapping his bare foot on the wood.

When it lay opened in her hands she stared at it, and Mello noted nervously the little tears that gathered at the end of her eyelashes. Perhaps it would have been a better idea just to get her a soccer ball instead.

Still though, he couldn't help the offense that creeped into his tone, "You don't like it," he said, fully prepared to snatch the comb away from her fingers.

Out of nowhere she suddenly latched onto him, bawling and squeezing him so tight he thought his eyes might go as wide as L's usually were.

"Layla," he grumbled, attempting to shove the estonian girl off of him, while tears splashed awkwardly on his collarbone. "Get off!"

She released him from her death grip and sniffled pathetically, wiping at her runny nose with the back of her hand. "It's the prettiest thing...I've ever gotten. I've never had anything pretty." Then she faltered, holding the comb back out to him, "Are...you sure you want me to have it?"

The way she looked made Mello suddenly feel sorry for her, as if she expected him to snatch the comb away from her and laugh in her face.

"It's just a stupid comb." he mumbled, hastily pushing her hands away. "It's not that special. You can have it."

Then he turned heel, going down to the hall for breakfast without another word.

Her birthday had been a slightly amusing affair to say the least, starting with the customary chocolate cupcake during lunch. She had appeared embarrassed by the birthday singing though and Mello noted how she fiddled with her fingernails while the chorus rang out all around her. However, he couldn't help but smile at her when she split the chocolate cupcake in thirds, giving the other two portions to Matt and himself.

During recess that day, several of the other boys had come up to her, offering gifts they had made. She thanked them all in that shy, quiet manner of hers before trailing behind Mello and going to sit under the large oak tree in the courtyard to watch him repeatedly smack Matt with a snow ball.

But, the real surprise was when Watari came out into the courtyard, bearing an elegantly wrapped present which he offered to Layla. The other children crowded around them, curious as to what the package contained.

"This is a gift from L." Watari said, smiling down at her benignly.

"Why should she get something from L?" A boy close to Mello's shoulder demanded.

"Flood, go play with your rubber ducks or something!" Mello snapped.

Flood was an athletic prodigy, most well known for his swimming abilities and sarcastic remarks. He was a year older than Mello himself, and quite tall with curly red hair. But still, that didn't stop Mello from going to glower at the lanky child.

"She's not even a real successor." Flood said, his tone clipped, giving voice to the private thought Mello had wandering around his head whenever Layla had annoyed him in some way or another.

"Shut up, Flood." Mello snarled, trying to control his urge to shove the boy when he witnessed the hurt look on Layla's face.

"Why should I?" the swimmer demanded, "You know it's true Mello. She gets special treatment around here, even from you. She's just desperate for attention. That's why she gave herself those bruises."

"She didn't give herself those bruises." Mello said vehemently cocking his fist before he felt Watari's hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down Mello." he said sternly, then gave Flood a sharp look, "You shouldn't be cruel on someone's birthday Flood. She has enough right to be here as the rest of you."

The children dispersed and Watari tipped his hat to Mello and Layla before disappearing inside the House.

"I didn't do that to myself." Layla said and Mello blinked in surprise.

She looked angry, angrier than Mello had ever seen her. Then her features softened and she looked pleadingly at Mello. "You...you believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah." Mello said quickly. "He was just upset you got something from L. He only gives presents to the kids he likes."

It was true too, Mello himself received a gift from L every holiday, a blatant display of favoritism from the world renowned detective. Although, he was usually far more subtle in showing this, often giving presents in private so other students were unaware.

"What is it?" Mello asked, pointing to the now opened present. It was a wooden box with the words Faber Castell written on it in fancy, golden script.

"Paintbrushes." she said softly.

"You should paint him something," Mello said, "As a thank you."

She nodded, and Mello watched as she walked back inside, obviously eager to try out her new paintbrushes.

Mello didn't see her for the rest of the day, and he assumed she was painting, happily lost in her own head.

About halfway through dinner, Mello watched perturbed as Zion ran through the hallway grabbing anxiously at Rodger's hand. When he spoke, Rodger's eyes widened dramatically and soon he was following Zion outside, practically running.

After muttering an excuse to Matt, Mello stood and followed them quietly out to where the fountain lay covered in snow in the courtyard.

It had taken him several minutes to register what he saw.

The fountain's water had been frozen over, and it looked as if the ice had been coated in strawberry syrup, some of it sloshing out over the snow in rivets.

Draped over the fountain was Flood's now lifeless body, a large gash in his throat, the source of all the blood that now lay freezing over the fountain.

"I saw Layla near the fountain." Zion said to Rodger, his tone unimpressed and Mello's eyes widened.

Is that where she had been all day? Plotting out the murder of a student who insulted her? The shock of it sent him running back into the House, up to Layla's room where he barged into the door.

"Mello!" she said, seeming surprised, "What's the matter?"

Roughly, he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "Where were you for the rest of the day? Tell the truth!"

"I was in here!" She squealed, showing him the paintings of flowers she had been working on. "I've been painting. Mello, what's the matter?"

He gave her a harsh, quizzical look, then released her from his grasp, going to collapse on her bed.

Mello stared blankly at the comb that lay glittering on her desk, "Nothing."


End file.
